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La Marseillaise 



OR, 



THE MAID OF PLESSY. 



A Drama in Three Acts, 



Luey Sehley Mereein 



La Marseillaise 



OR, 



THE MAID OF PLESSY 




A Drama in Three Acts. 



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MILWAUKEE: 

CHAS. WEBSTER & CO., Booksellers and Stationers, 

104 Wisconsin Street. 



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LA MARSELLAISE, 

OR, 

THE MAID OF PLESSY. 



The Scenes are laid during the Reign of Terror, in the 
village of Plessy, the Prison of La Force, in Paris, and the 
Court of the Comte D'Artois, at Coblentz. 

CHARACTERS. 

Count Felix DeMercienne. 

Jules Lafarge. 

Val Duchard. 

Count D'Artois. 

Laurette Duchard. 

Mme St. Evremonde. 

Countess Valerie St. Cyril. 

Mother Mauprat. 

Mayor. 

Jailor. 

Prisoners. 

Court Ladies and GenUemen, Soldiers, Villagers. 

ACT FIRST.— SCENE FIRST. 

\_Interior of BucharcVs Cottage. Kettle suspended over fire. 
Dresser with tins, ciockery, etc., in rear. Spinning-wheel, 
tahle, chai7\>, etc. Mother Mauprat stirring soup. Enter 
Duchard ivith bafiket on arm, c. d. ] 

Duchard. How now Mother Mauprat. Spoiling that lazy daughter 
of mine by doing her work for her as usual ? Haven't you enough of 
your own at home ? 

Mother Mauprat. It's none of your business, I suppose, Val. 
Duchard, if I choose to give the child a mouthful of fresh air occasion- 



4 LA MARSEILLAISE. 

ally. You keep her close enough housed, I warrant ye. A pretty idea 
if a neighbor can't do a neighborly turn without being snapped up 
for it! 

Duchard. Oh, as to that, suit yourself. "Liberty, equality, frater- 
nity," you know! S^Approaching kettle. '\ And what are you cooking us 
for supper, Mother Mauprat ? That detestable cabbage soup again! I 
tell you we have abolished that, with the rest of the tyrants! Give us 
some cheese, some eggs, a broiled capon or two. ' 

Mother Mauprat. \_gruindiing.'\ Very fine, Val. Duchard, turn up 
vour nose at your own doings, like a wise fool! Cheese, and eggs, and 
a broiled capon or two. Very fine! And why not some bottles of red 
wine and a handful of comfitures, beside ? That's a sight that hasn't 
been seen in this village since you and your fellows broke our good 
lady's heart, with your clubs, and your shoutings, and your red caps, 
and the rest of your devilments. Poor Madame la Comtesse, she 
would have died over again to have seen the good cure climb into the 
cart, side by side with the old count, and jog away to the guillotine, and 
all the village shouting and dancing round like fiends. 

Duchard. Take care old woman how you call names, or you may 
take a ride in the same cart yourself! 

Mother Mauprat. And leave nobody to show Laurette how to keep 
house for you ? That would be as sensible as your shutting up the 
chateau and sticking a big red sealingwax plate on the very door the 
good things used to come out of. That was the hen that laid our eggs, 
Val. Duchard, and you won't get any more till you put another of the 
same kind on the nest again. 

Duchard, [(ingri/y.'^ Hold your prate woman, and learn to speak 
respectfully of the national seal, or St. Guillotine will teach you. As 
you suggest, why not some bottles of red wine, {^producing thein'\ and 
a handful of comfitures \_producmg cakes], and perhaps a bunch of 
grapes and a peach or two! In short, a feast ? \Jiiying contents of 
basket on table.'] To the devil with your cabbage-soup and your 
black bread! [^upsetting kettle into fire.] This is a big day in the Du- 
chard family, and we'll do it justice patriotically. {Seizes a bottle, 
knocks off the head and empies it.] Liberty, fraternity, equality, 
Vive la' Republique, Vive la Guillotine, Vive Robespierre. 

Mother Mauprat. Holy Virgin, the man's mad! 

Duchard [seizing her by arvi.] How often must I tell you to drop 
that cant. Mother Mauprat? Is it not bad enough, in these dangerous 
limes, to have been intendant to an aristocrat' for twenty years ? Do 
you want to get me into trouble with the Revolutionary Committee ? 
[ tell you the Convention has done away with saints and virgins, and 
all the rest cf that traitorous stuff. Nobody is holy now but Robespierre 
and the guillotine. Do you understand ? Where's Laurette .-* 

Mother Mauprat. In the park, where she usually is. What do you 
want her for ? 

Duchard. Didn't I tell you it was a big day for the Duchard family ? 
I've got a husband for her. That's what I want her for. 

Mother Mauprat. Holy Mary! — Citizeness Mary, I should say — 
a husband for Laurette? Not the man from Paris, who has been hang- 
ing round the village the last week, ogUng her like a moonstruck calf? 



LA MARSEILLAISE. 5 

Diichard. Precisely — the man from Paris. And it's a big strike, I 
can tell you. 

Mother Mauprat. Is he rich, then ? 

Duchard. He's better than rich — he's powerful. With Lafarge for 
my son-in-law, I can snap my fingers at the Revolutionary Committee. 

Mother Mauprat. She won't have him. 

Duchard. She wont have him? Hell and furies! But I say she 
shall have him. Is she to go mooning round for the rest of her life, 
bewailing the old animal of an aristocrat she calls her god-mother ? 
Why, the Convention is going to issue an edict next week, making it a 
crime against the nation to mourn for aristocrats. She'll cost me my 
head yet. with her tears and her hang-dog looks. 

Mother Mauprat. All the same, I tell you she won't have him. 
She is like her mother for sweetness and patience (poor Nanette, that's 
dead and gone — but she's your own flesh and blood when she's roused, 
Val Duchard! 

Dachard. She won't have him, eh? Hell and furies, we'll see about 
that! Here, you set the table for supper. Laurette's intended is 
coming to make her acquaintance this evening. And, mind you, 
Mother Mauprat, no slips. Citizen Lafarge is a member of the Com- 
mittee of Public Safely. A word or a wink from them is enough. 
llinitdtes cutting off head. K.xii Jj d.] 

Mother Mauprat. Ugh you horrid wretch ! The Lord made you 
out of all the "bully" and "coward" he had left over when he finished 
the rest of us. My poor little Laurette has a weary time of it here, 
and if it wasn't a husband of his choosing, I should welcome the day 
that saw her married. But to Lafarge, the police spy! Will he send her 
to the guillotine, I wonder, when he tires of her. It's but one jump from 
love to hate, with such a man as that. [Voices without.'] Ah, here she 
comes now, and her father's with her. So she knows already! 

{Door at back opened by Duchard, speaking off) 

Duchard. Like it or not, my girl, my will is law, and so you'll find 
before I am done with you. 

[Pushes Laurette in roughly and closes the door. She takes 
centre of stage and stands bewildered, pushing her broad hat 
back with one hand, and letting her basket of Jloivers fall from 
the other. Then ohsprving Mother Mauprat, embraces her im- 
petuously.] 

Laurette. Oh, mamalette, you have heard — you know! Is it not too 
dreadful ? I am to be married; think of that. Married ! Is it not a 
horrible idea? 

Mother Mauprat. Well as to that, little cabbage, I think the idea 
that you were never to be married would be more horrible still. 

Laurette. But to a man I have never seen — a man from that dread- 
ful Paris, where they wade in blood and play foot-ball with men's heads 
in the street. Why he must be a sort of a cannibal. The very idea 
makes my flesh creep. 



6 LA MARSELLAISE. 

Mother Matiprat. Ill looking he is not, for I have seen him prowl- 
ing round after you, with his fierce, hungry face, and you, poor lamb, 
never dreaming a wolf so near. 

Laiirette. Alas, our little village is full of wolves, now-a-days. I 
never look up when I go abroad, lest I should see some strange, wild 
face, glaring at me under his red cap. 

Mother Mauprat. That's a risk you run, little cabbage, as long as 
yours is so good to look at. Come, pluck up a little spirit. You are 
not married yet, nor even betrothed. If we don't like the looks of this 
stranger we'll send him off "right-about-face," as my little Peterkin 
says. Meanwhile here are some of your flowers to put in your hair. 

[ Flits wreath on head and draws off admiringly. ] 

Laitrette. [ Too absorbed to notice'\ Oh, why am I alone in the world, 
with no one to teach me my duty? Is it not enough that my poor 
mother is dead, that now, when I need her most, my god-mother — my 
dear protectress and friend — must be taken also? Who will tell me 
what to do, weak, forlorn girl that I am, worse than orphaned ? The 
good cure said we must always obey our parents. Would he have 
taught me that, I wonder, if he had known my father was one day to 
send him to the guillotine ? Mme. la Comtese said all modest daugh- 
ters marry the husbands their fathers choose for them. But the crimes 
of such men as this my father chooses for vie broke her heart. Oh, my 
dearest madame, will you not rise in your grave to see your name-sake, 
your petted god-child, married to a Jacobin. \J)iiries face itt hands.'] 

Mother Mauprat. There, there, child, "don't creep while your feet 
are left," as the old saw says. What's this they are shouting about 
the village now-a days. Liberty, equality and some more nonsense. 
It's a pretty idea, when there's so much liberty goes a begging the 
daughter of the loudest shouter of all should be given away like a San 
Domingo slave. There, hurry to the spring for some water. \^Puls pail 
on head.] I'll stay to see the supper properly served. 

Latirette. Thank you, dear mammalette, you are the kindest neigh- 
bor that ever was. [Exit c. D.] 

DucHARD and Lafarge enter c. D. 

Diichard, {looking round.] Laurette out of the way ? That's lucky. 
There, old woman, take your old bones off in a hurry, I've company. 
D' ye see ? We are not ready for supper yet. There's a bit of busi- 
ness brewing that- has taken our appetites. Keep Laurette out of the 
way. We will attend to her to morrow. \_Mother Mauprat exit R. D.] 
Here is the quiet spot you requested, citizen Lafarge. No danger of 
visitors. Val. Duchard's cottage is not a popular resort for the vil- 
lagers, I believe, \J. ughing grimly.] 

Lafarge. Yet none of the palaces we have been getting rid of lately, 
boasted as fair an ornament as the beautiful Laurette, citizen. 

Duchard. Oh, Laurette's good enough, and pretty enough, and 
there's nothing to prevent your marrying her to-morrow if you say the 
word. But now to the matter in hand. How hot it is here! [ Throws 
open lattice window. 1 



LA MAKSELLAISE. 7 

Lafarge, {satirically .\ Your ardor in the good cause makes you 
warm. As you say, to the matter in hand. 

\_They draw close together, turning their hacks to the window. 
Laurette appears at lattice pail on head.^ 

Laitrette. What! my father returned already and the stransrer with 
him! If only I could catch a glunpse of his face! Mow provoking their 
backs are turned! \^Sets down pnil and zvatches through the zuindoju.'] 

Lafarge. Your information regarding the return of this emigre De 
Mercienne, is reliable then ? 

Diichard. Assuredly. \_Lanrette exhibits intense interest.} 

Lafarge. He will be at the chateau to-night, in fact is there already, 
you say "" 



Diichard, Here's the letter he was fool enough to write to that pig- 
headed old drunkard, Brissac. A quart of Burgundy broke the seal for 
me. They are all fools, as well as knaves, these emigres! \^Hands 
letter to Lafarge.} 

L^afarge. Hum, hum, "leave the south door open," "have money 
and title-deeds in the escritoire in the library," "be especially wary of 
that rascally intendant." Ha, Duchard, the ex-count pays his com- 
pliments to yoii. 

Duchard. As I will to him — curse him! before this night is out! 

Lafarge, {^continuing.} "And be careful of that old enemy of yours, 
the Burgundy in the maison Mauprat." That's a warning, it seems, he 
d\dc<\Wv&^di, {folding letter and rising.}. Well, my old school-mate de 
Mercienne, I think we may safely say we have got you! The Republic 
owes you much, Citizen Duchard. This malignant belongs to a dan 
gerous family, all of them untamable aristocrats, and it is well-knowi^ 
he is on his way to join the traitor D'Artois at Coblentz. His capture 
will reflect credit upon Plessy, and establish your own reputation as a 
good patriot. Without rudeness, citizen, I may say that your long con- 
nection with these traitors has damaged you somewhat in high quarters. 

Duchard. I know it — I feared it. Yet surely no one has worked 
harder than myself to arouse patriotism in the village. Already they 
call me Danton Duchard, and after to night's work, and with Citizen 
Lafarge for my son-in-law. {Bozving low.') 

Lafarge, {loftily.} The family of Mme. Lafarge will be necessarily 
above suspicion But, look you, citizen, they tell me in the village, 
your daughter has been badly brought up; aristocrat friends and so on. 
Perhaps she will give me the go-by after all ? 

Duchard. You don't know Val. Duchard yet, that's plain. Laurette 
shall be your wife, and the title-deeds of the chateau her wedding por- 
tion. My hand on it! {They shake hands. LMurette disappears from 
window.} And now to collect the mayor and villagers. {Exeunt c. D. 
Laurette enters 'Si. T).} 

Laurette. My dear lady's son at the chateau ? Is he mad— desper- 
ate ? A returned emigre is already tried and condemned. And it is my 
father who has betrayed him! Mother, mother, in that beautiful Heaven 
where you are, do you know this perfidy! She whom you loved so 
dearly — whose soft hand closed your eyes — it is her son he has given to 



8 LA MARSIELLAISE. 

death! Ah, but my promise! Now is the lime to remember that. 
"Lauretie," said my mother, lying yonder on her pallet, "let them call 
my disease what ihey will, you and I know it is a broken heart. I could 
endure his scorn and cruelty, but when he made me a spy on my dearest 
lady, oh that was too much. Promise me, if ever you can render a 
service to her or hers, to do it for my sake. Perhaps it will ease my 
wicked soul in Purgatory.'' And so I promised, and she died with a 
smile on her lips. Well, he must be warned, and my father will kill 
me if he finds it out. But then I shall not have to marry the dreadful 
man from Parist They have gone back to the village. Il I run across 
the park and over the little bridge, I shall be at least ten minutes ahead 
of them, long enough for him to escape and me also, perhaps. If not, 
dear mother, dear benefactress, death cannot be cruel which unites us 
to our dearest friends. 

Mother Maiiprat,\enterinir hastily.^ There's some deviltry afloat. 
They are singing the Marsellaise! 

Lauretle. 1 hear it calling me! Adieu, dear mammalette, we shall 
never meet again. 

\^Exit c. D. Mother Mauprat gazing after her in dismayed surprise. 
Curtain Falls. 



ACT FIRST.— SCENE SECOND. 

\Lihrary at V e Chateau de Afercienne furnished in medioeval 
style, yioonliyht falling across front of the stage through a 
high latticed witidow. on left of stage Door on right, 
concealed by curtain. De Mercienne. wrapped in a military 
cloak, pacing back and forth. '\ 

De Mercienne. Not even a dog to bid me welcome ! The eyes of 
the very portraits have a stony, unrecognizing stare. Yet this is 
the spot to which my heart so long has turned with the exile's hungry 
affection - the dearest spot of all in this dear home of my childhood. 
Here stood my mother's chair, with the embroidery frame always near 
it. There the table where my father and the cure played interminable 
games of chess, during the sunny, summer afternoons. The corner 
yonder was Victoire's fort, this other mine; this rug our mimic battle 
field. Well, mother's slim, pale fingers are resting forever now from 
their works of love. Father and the cure, inseparable in life, mounted 
the guillotine together. Victoire sleeps with a sword thrust in his 
heart. And I am here ! Truly a lonely home coming. They called 
me mad, at Coblentz, to brave the dangers of a return into the lion's 
jaws. The Comte D'Artois said many flattering things, and I fancy 
the road to fortune he graciously pointed out, would not be hard to 
follow, with the Countess Valerie's dark eyes to light the way. But 



LA MARSEILLAISE. 9 

their descriptions of the danger only sent the blood more gaily through 
my veins. It is this ghostly loneliness that chills my very soul. Not 
a voice, not a footfall. \_Calling off'\ Ho, there, Brissac, Brissac ! 
\_No ans%ver.'\ So then, the house of De Mercienne must, indeed, be a 
sinking ship, since even that old cellar rat has deserted it. Let me fol- 
low the general example, gather up the money and the papers which 
may yet save my shattered fortune, and be off. {^Opetis escritoire, takes 
out nwney, papers, etc. A distant chord of the Marsellaise is heard. De 
M. starts tj his feet.'\ Ha, what is that ? Has the solitude unstrung 
my nerves, or did I hear the Marsellaise? Ah-h-h — ! 

{The curtain before the door draws swiftly hack and Laiirette 
appears the moonligJtt falliny strong on her figure. Another 
burfit of the Marsellaise.^ 

De Mercie.me. {In a loud whisper. '\ Mother is it you come to wel- 
come your poor Felix ? {Approaches. "l But, no! That blonde hair — 
that slender figure ! It is a girl — a child. Who — what are you ? 

Lanretee, {breathUssly.'\ M, le Comte, not a moment! Fly! They 
are coming! 

De M. Enter M'dlle. You are fatigued — you are out of breath. 
Pray repose yourself and be seated. 

Lauretle. Do you not understand, M. le Comte ? They are coming 
— there is not a moment to lose. 

De M. Oh, vtdUe. is kind enough to bring me a warning — "they" 
being our friend Danton's cut throats no doubt. A thousand thanks, 
Mdlle. May I ask to whom 1 have the honor to owe so great an obli- 
gation ? 

Lanrette. Oh, I am only Val. Duchard's daughter — nobody of any 
consequence at all. But I have run all the way to warn you, and see, 
you are standing stock still; and they have already passed the park 
gates. Oh ! {wringing }ier hands'] am I to' be killed in vain ? Run, 
run! 

De M. What, Mdlle., have you risked so much for a poor proscribed 
emigre ? Let me first see you safely home again — my horse will easily 
carry double. After that 

Lanrette. Home again, M. the Comte? I have no home any more. 
Did I not tell you I am Val. Duchard's daughter ? He will kill me 
when he knows What I have done. But there is, at least, time for you 
to escape. 

De M. I should ill deserve the name I bear, Mdlle., could I be 
guilty of so great a cowardice. We will wait the coming of your fath- 
ers friends together. It may be, for old times' sake, I may still have 
enough influence with him to win you his forgiveness. And meantime, 
will you tell me why you have risked so much for a stranger? So fair 
a face is not easily forgotten, yet I do not recall — 

Lanrette, {modestty.] Mme. la Comtesse was my god-mother, my 
dearest friend. It is a very little thing to do for her who did so much 
for me, to save her favorite son from the dreadful guillotine. There is 
still time to escape, for your mother's sakel 



TO LA MARSEILLAISE. 

[Falls on her knees. A loud burst oj the Marsellaise is heard 
close at hand, Laurette clasps her hands in despair. '^ 

De Mercienne, [assisting her to rise.l Mdlle. I thank you with 
all my heart. Stand you here, while I receive these gentlemen. 
[Places her behind a high-backed chair. Assumes his chapeau 
and throws back his cloak, displaying a coloneVs uniform, then 
opens the door wide. A crowd of sans culottes, carrying torches, 
pour in, headed by Duchnrd and Lafarge. De M. places 
himself in front of Laurette, who clings to the back nf the 
chair. Bowing prof oundly] Gentlemen you wish to see the Comte 
de Mercienne ? He is at your service. 

Duchard. We wish to see a scoundrel of an aristocrat who has sold 
himself to his country's enemies. Comrades, this is he! 

De Mercienne, [involuntarily presenting pistols, then loivering them 
again — aside.'] But, no, that were to throw away my life, and leave 
that poor young creature defenseless. 

[The mob shout, **Down with the aristocrat T *' Seize the 
traitor r' *'To the guillotine with himV etc. De Mercienne 
stands calmly confronting t'xem during the hubbub.} 

Duchard. Where's the Mayor? Tell the Mayor to come forward. 
[The mob part and the mayor, wearing his tri-colored scarf, appears.] 
Pierre Garin, Mayor of the Commune of Plessy, we call upon you to 
arrest this man, calling himself Comte de Mercienne, a returned 
emigre, condemned by the decree of the 9th Fructidor. 

De M. [diaking the mayor'' s hand.] Ah, my old friend Pierre the 
miller! So you have grown to be mayor of a commune since I went a 
horse-back riding on your knee. Well, my friend, do your duty as M. 
I'intendant demands. Arrest the son of your seigneur and hurry him 
to the guillotine. He confesses himself a returned emigre. 

Mayor. Why, sure, its little Felix. I'd a-known him anywhere! 

Duchard. Ha, you hesitale ! Poltroon, traitor! Here neighbors, 
one of you lend me a torch, we'll see what the young scoundrel is hid- 
ing from us behind there. 

De M. [hastily.] I yield myself your prisoner, sir! There is nothing 
that concerns you there. 

Duchard. We'll see about that. [Lifts torch, the others crowd 
round. A strea7n of red light falls on Laurette. Tableau.] 

Mayor. Why, what is that! A woman, a girl. Why Citizen Du- 
chard it is your daughter! [A shout of laicghter from the crowd.] 

\ Duchard springs forward.] 

De M. [thrusting hitn back.] Your business is with me, not this 
child. 



LA MARSEILLAISE. II 

Duchard. What, a man finds his daughter turned traitress, and it 
is none of his business. The arrogance of these aristocrats! 

Vvue in the Croivd. Ha, ha, Duchard, can't you bring up a daugh- 
ter better than that ? 

Another Voice. He needed so much patriotism for himself, there 
wasn't any left for his family. [Crowd laughs and jeers.] 

Duchard. I tell you she is no daughter of mine. I disown the 
hussy. Lafarge, I annul our contract. Soldiers, carry this jade away 
with the prisoner; since she is so fond of his company, it would be a 
pity to separate them. My house is no har'oor for traitors to the nation. 

Lafarge, {aside.] Can love have nerved her to this ? Or, is it the 
old heroic spirit of self-devolion revived in these wonderful days. Why, 
then, Jules Lafarge, here's a woman worth the winning. 

Duchard, {to soldiers.] I tell you I'm in earnest. Why do we de- 
lay? Soldiers, do your duty. Arrest these culprits! 

Laurel te, {shrieks.] Ah, father! 

[The solditrs advance reluctantly, waiting for a sign from the 
Mai/or, ivho hesitates. De M. inttrpoaes hiim-elf between them 
and L'lurttte.] 

De M. This shall not be! Have none of you pity for a poor girl 
who has risked so much to save a stranger's life! She has lived among 
you; you all know her to be pure and innocent. As God is my witness, 
I never saw her before to-night. 

Mayor. Neighbors, this young man speaks the truth. Laurette is 
a good girl. Citizen Duchard, the glorious Republic does not expect 
fathers to turn themselves into fiends. You go too far. We are all 
good patriots here and love our country; is it not so, neighbors? 

Chortis. Vive la Republique! 

Mayor. But it is not necessary we should give our village a bad 
name by sending our girls to prison. I say again, you go too far. Now, 
I have an idea. In the old times they used to say, a man and his wife 
were one. I put it to you, friends and neighbors, is it not better to 
turn an aristocrat into a good citizen than to cut off his head ? Let us 
marry this young man to Laurette, who is doubtless as good a Republi- 
can as her father, and then send them both about their business. 
What say you ? 

[Shouts of laught'-r and eager talking in pantomime. Du- 
chard and Lafarge gesticulate violently in the negative] 

De M. {To mayor.] You may send me to death, if you please. 
My fate is in your hands; but my name and honor are my own. 

Mayor. I do not understand aristocrat ideas of honor. But it seems 
to a plain man like me when you have enticed a simple girl away — well, 
well — when she has enticed herself away — if you like that better — the 
least you can do is to get her out of the scrape. Her father has thrown 
her off— he's a bad one, is Val Duchard — and it would not do her any 
good to fall into that Lafarge's hands, who has had his eye on her this 



12 LA MARSEILLAISE. 

month past, either. And, mind you, it's better to marry a pretty girl 
than to look out of the little window of the guillotine, as your father 
did, last year. 

De M. \_Regarding Z.] Poor, innocent, devoted girl, there she 
bends, like a crushed flower. And either way, my doom is sealed. 
Marry her — and adieu to freedom, ambition, the dark eyes of the 
Comtesse Valerie ! Reject her — but shall a De Mercienne be less gen- 
erous th^n a village maid ? \_To mayor'] I consent, if you promise no 
harm shall befall the child. And here — since they are doubtless of no 
further use to me — I place in your hands, for her benefit, the title deeds 
of the chateau. 

Mayor. \_Thrusting back papers.] Tut, tut, man, keep your prop- 
erty and take care of her yourself. You are free to go as soon (and let 
me hint in your ear) as far as you like. Neighbors, the citizen con- 
sents. Citizen Duchard, I congratulate you upon your son-in-iaw. 

Duchard. Hell and furies ! The title deeds have escaped me after 
all. l^Exit c. D.] 

Lajarge. This is a complication that rather upsets my plans. But 
he girl is worth trying for. I'll have her yet. \^Exit c. D.] 

\As each departs tht crowd laughs and jeers.] 

De M. \_To Luurette.] Mdlle., you risked your life for me. I offer 
you mine in return. The fate of war, which decrees my immediate 
departure, unites us but in name. But my honor and my fidelity will 
be unalterably yours. Will you accept me for your husband ? 

Laiirette. [Drazving back.] Oh ! it is too much, too much ! I 
could die for you M. le Comte ! That is but a moments' pang; but to 
marry you — thus — {^Covers her face with her hands.] 

Mayor. {^Removing her hands kindly, and placing one of tJiem in De 
M''s.] Come, come, my girl, complete the job. You set out to save 
this young man from the guillotine, and this is the way to do it. 

\LaureVt struggles a moment with hnstlf, then looking 
devoutly up to Heaven, slowly takes her place by De M's side, 
while the Mayo?' marries them in pantomime. The crowd sing 
the Marsellaise and the curtain slowly descends, j 



LA MARSEILLAISE. 13 



ACT SECOND.— SCENE FIRST. 

[3Ime. St. Evremori'Ies Salon near Plessj/, opening onto a 
terrace with st^ps leading into a garden. Fortrait of a lady 
on a easel. Mme. St. Evremonde and De Mercitnne dis- 
covered. I 

Mme. St. Evremonde. Really my dear Felix, it is like a fairy story. 
I can hardly recover my breath. You leave me at sunset a gay young 
soldier of fortune, with Glory for your mistress. You return before 
midnight leading a pale snow-drop of a girl by the hand, whom you 
present to me as the Comtesse de Mescienne, my niece. Is it an ill- 
timed jest, or one of the dreams I spend my days in ? Shall I awake 
presently to find you my debonnaire Felix again, with that thoughtful 
line in your forehead erased ? 

De M. Alas, no, dear aunt, if my new responsibility has brought it 
there. I am married hard and fast and am trying to realize my strange 
position. 

Mme. S/. E. So you consider it a binding tie ? \^De M. bows assent.] 
And you will proclaim your marriage on your return to Coblentz? [Z>^ 
M. bows again.] I fancy there is some one else there, besides your 
liege, the Comte D'Artois, who will not be over-pleased. 

De M. Dear aunt, if I had other dreams; if there was perhaps an- 
other future, where gratified pride and ambition might play their part; 
mind you, I do not speak of love, that sacred emotion is yet to come — 
it is over now. The poor child yonder has my troth; for the rest, you 
will take care of her for me, will you not my dear aurit, till I return to 
claim her, or a chance shot sets her free? 

Mme. St. E. Assuredly, dear boy. You are right. Another might 
plead the informality, the compulsion, the unsuitableness of the con- 
nection. That is not for us. Noblesse oblige. She risked all for you. 
You give her all in return. So be it. 

De M. And now tell me of yourself. My time grows brief. The 
good mayor warned me not to let the day-break find me within twenty 
miles of Plessy. A fickle race, my countrymen. They found it a very 
good joke to marry me. They would think it equally funny to cut off 
my head. You are safe here ? 

Mme. St. E. Measuteably I believe. An occasional domiciliary 
visit warns me I have the honor to be on the list of the suspected; and 
my servants have seen fit to depart. I have also a lodger, Desnoyers 
by name, whom I shrewdly suspect to be my jailor as well — fortunately 
he is away to-night! But as he knows all about me already, I don't 
feel obliged to hold my tongue, always a difficult task as you know.. 
So we chat away in the most amicable manner, and if he sees fit to 
wind up his visit by sending me to the Abbaye, or La Force — I shall 
find myself in very good company, that's all! 



14 LA MARSEILLAISE. 

De M. Brave and philosophic as ever, dear aunt. And now— [m- 
ing.-\ 

Mine. St. E. What, so soon, Fehx ? And to part so long! One by 
one I have seen them all go forth, and now the last, the best beloved. 
\_Passes hanlkerchief across eyes.] Well, what must be, must. Shall 
you care to see Jier before you go ? 

De M. ^hesitating.] Poor child, she is exhausted by the long walk 
over the roiigU country road. An 1 the man who has deprived her of home 
and friends cannot be a welcome sight. Nevertheless — there are cer- 
tain papers to place in her care. A word would do. 

Mme. St. E. {departing.] I go to summon her, and then into the 
garden. Do not be long, dear Felix. I can ill aiTord to lose one of 
the precious moments that have grown so few. \^Exit down the steps oj 
the terrace.] 

Le M. {approaching the portrait and contemplating it sadly.] Ah, 
smiling, saucy lips, the question I had hoped to ask you, must never 
be ventured now. The blows of fate fall swifily, when the hour is ripe. 
Yesteniay you might not have counted it presumption, that I lifted my 
eyes so high. To-day, the moon herself is not more inaccessible. Adieu, 
fair Valerie! {Drazus curtain across the picture.] 

ILaurette enters n. J). She pauses, ohsrrving the movement .\ 

Laurette, [timidly.] You sent for me, monsieur the Comte! 

De M. Yes madlle. — Madame, I have been so inconsiderate, not- 
withstanding your fatigue. {/low the poor child trembles.) I am about 
to rejoin the Comte D'Artois as you know. In view of the numerous 
accidents of war I should like to leove in charge of the Comtesse de 
Mercieniie the title deeds of the chateau, {offering papers. Laurette 
draws back.] 

Ljnrette, {passionately.] Oh you cannot be so cruel monsieur! You 
cannot mock me so dreadfully! Ah, I shall die of shame. Do you 
think I hold you to that wicked jest ? I tell you monsieur, proud as 
you nobles are, we of the people have our pride also. We do not give 
ourselves away unasked. 

T)e M. {gently.] Madame, it is a sentiment which is worthy of you, 
and of the name which I confide to your keeping. 

Lmrttte {eagerly.] But what if I refuse it? 

De M. Are you then so anxious to be free ? Perhaps, poor child, 
there is some one to whom you would more willingly be bound? 

Laurette. I, monsieur? I was not thinking of myself. 

Be M. {aside.] Again, that upliited look of devotion, {approaching 
and taking her hand tenderly.] My child, Providence interprets our 
designs more widely than we always comprehend. You have offered 
your life for me, and it is thus I am permitted to accept the sacrifice! 

\Bends and kisses her hand. Then slowly retires. The cur- 
tain falls. 



LA MARSEILLAISE. 



ACT yECOND.— SCENE SECOND. 

Scene the same. Mme. St. Evremonde and Lnfarge seated at 
a small g>/psy table. Lnurette bdween them, making tea, 
English style. 

Mme. S^. E. Another cup of that delicious beverage, Laurette, my 
dear. I hope it is not unpatriotic for a good French woman to possess 
such an Enghsh taste? At all events, citizen Uesnoyers, you are 
responsible for reviving it. This is the first I have tasted for three 
years. 

Lajarf^e. I am glad to have revived any of your accustomed pleas- 
ures, citizeness, in return for the discomforts my enforced presence must 
have caused. It is but for a short time longer, however. My duties at 
Plessy are nearly over. 

Mme. St. E. Is it so? We shall miss you sincerely, Laurette and I. 
[7'(? Z.] I dare say he is the reddest of Red Republicans, my dear, if 
we only knew it, and has the most shocking opinions. But all the 
same, we like our lodger, do we not ? 

Laurette. The last few we jks have certainly been very pleasant, dear 
aunt. 

Lafarge. You see, citizeness, your niece does not believe in puffing 
men up with praise. 

Laurette. The consciousness of performing a good action ought to 
be enough, monsieur. You know that you have used your influence to 
protect two helpless women from persecution, and you know that we 
know it What more can you desire ? 

Lafarge. \_Aside.'\ Still cold and cruel, Laurette ! Can I do noth- 
ing to win a kind look from you ? 

Laurette. Do you, then, doubt my gratitude, monsieur ? 

Lafarge. \^Fervently.] But it is not gratitude I want. Give me — 

Laurette. \_Archly.\ Another cup of tea ? 

[Lafarge refuses it in disgust.] 

L. No more tea, then ? Nor you, dear aunt? [S/ie declines.'\ Then 
I will remove the salver, and put away the tea things. 

[Lyfarge escorts her to r. d., and stands looking after her.] 

Lafarge. [Astcfe.} Tormenting, fascinating little witch! Jules 
Lafarge, you ai-e right — she is worth the winning. 

Mme. St. E. [A/so /oaring jfter her.] .What a dear child it is ! I 
shudder to think what my situation %vould have been during these 
dreary weeks, without her. And is it my partiality ? Or is she really 
very pretty ? As a man of the world, you ought to know. 

Z. As a man of the world, citizeness, I assure you she is pretty — 
enchant ngly pretty — and growing more so every day. {Aside.] And 
now, Lafarge alias Desnoyers, alias Chaumette, alias anything else that 



l6 LA MARSEILLAISE. 

suits your convenience, it is time to find out about this marriage busi- 
ness. I have loitered in a fool's paradise long enough, and when I go, 
she must go with me. 

[Reseats himself at table.] 

Mme. St. E. [Aside.] How fervently he spoke ! Poor young man! 
It is as I surmised — he has fallen in love with Laurette. Now is the 
time to tell him she is married. Ahem ! 

Z. You spoke citizeness ? 

Mmg. St. E. Ahem ! A beautiful day, citizen. 

L. [AsUe. Good gracious, it's raining hard ! [Aloud.] A trifle 
moist, citizeness. 

Mme. St. E. [Embarrassed.] Delightful weather for cabbages. 
[Aside.] I am being too diplomatic. He does not seem to understand 
me. [Aloud.] You are aware, citizen, that my niece, whom you seem 
to admire so much, is not my niece? 

L. [Aside.] Ha, ha, here we go ! Steady old lady — give her her 
head. [Aloud.] Indeed, citizeness, you surprise me. 

Mme. St. E. In fact, I only made her acquaintance a few weeks 
ago. She is my nephew — [Aside] No, it won't do to say that Who 
knows, he may be one of Fouche's spies, after all. 

Z. She is your nephew ! You surprise me more and more. 

Mme. St. E. Peste, citizen Desnoyers ! Is it Republican manners 
to catch one up so. I was about to say — I forget what I was about 
to say! In short she is a married woman ! 

Z. [aside.] Ha, so these fools of aristocrats do intend to consider 
that addle-pated mayor's joke, a marriage, do they? [aloud.] You 
amaze me citizeness. She seems a mere child. 

- Mme. St. E. [aside.] How startled he was! [aloud, complacently.] 
Yes, I presumed I should amaze you. I wished her to tell you some 
time ago, but there are some peculiar circumstances connected with 
the marriage, and she prefers lo be known merely as Laurette, my 
niece, at present. * 

Z. [aside.] There's hope for me! She suppresses the marriage. 
[aloud.] I understand citizeness; there is something irregular about it. 
Probably her husband has deserted her. 

Mme. St. E. [rising haughtily.] Sir, you insult us! My nephew is 
incapable of such baseness. 

Z. A thousand pardons, citizeness! But you forget to mention your 
nephew's share in the matter. Of course the ex-Comte de Mercienne 
is incapable of deserting his wife, that goes without saying. But sup- 
pose she is not his wife. Suppose — such things have happened so often 
of late, that it is not a stretch of imagination to suggest it; — suppose 
compulsion has been used, a mock ceremonial performed, perhaps even 
none at all, a mere tacit agreement, dissolved by immediate separation? 
Under such circumstances would he consider himself married, would 
you citizeness, if called upon to decide, consider him married? [aside], 
Go slow, old lady! You are about to choose between this snug retreat 
and a cell at La Force! 



LA MARSEILLAISE. I 7 

Mme. St. E. You are either a wizard Citizen Desnoyers, or you 
know more of our private affairs even, than we had supposed. If you 
know under what circumstances this marriage was performed, you 
know also whether a man of honor would consider himself bound by 
it. Allow me to wish you -a good afternoon. [^Exit I.. D. haughtily.'^ 

L. Very neatly said, old lady, quite in the spirit of the ancient noblesse. 
Pity it becomes necessary for an insignificant individual named Lafarge 
to brush you out of the way! — So then, after the unexpected good luck 
of finding Laurette under the same roof with me, and all the opportu- 
nities of making headway since, I am to be met by this stumbling 
block of a marriage. A thousand plagues on that blundering mayor! 
And that accounts for her timidity and reserve. I feared at first she re- 
cognized her quandom suitor, "the dreadful man from Paris," as she 
called me in those naive revelations of hers. But she thinks herself 
married. Perhaps she loves him — or the idea of him — which is more 
dangerous still. Sacre diable! If I thought it possible! Jules Lafarge 
my friend, you alarm me. I do not recognize you. What charm is 
there in this slim, pale-faced girl to have set your pulse beating at such 
a rate ? After thirty years of satiety, have you retrograded into a love- 
struck boy! Does she love him ? That's the bee that buzzes in my bon- 
net! Ah, here she comes, pale, gentle, beautiful as ever. 

Laurette enters l. d. 

Laurette. What have you been saying to my aunt. Citizen Desnoyers ? 
I met her outside, just now, trembling with agitation. 

L. It is I rather, Mdlle. who should tremble. The citizeness has 
confided to me an item of family history. 

Laurette. Ah, how unkind, how inconsiderate! 

Z. Do not blame her Laurette. She spoke in mercy to a poor 
wf^tch who dared to cast his eyes upon fruit she deemed forbidden. 

Laurette. Then you know 

L. I know that you were married' in a drunken jest to a stranger 
who brought you here and departed for parts unknown immediately. 

Laurette. You know that ? Well, it is true. 

L. Laurette you cannot hold that a marriage ? Nor he either. 

Laurette. But he does! 

L. And you — ? 

Laurette. And I. 

L. Impossible, it is romantic folly. He does not want you; see he 
has deserted you. Doubtless he is already married to his fiancee. 

Laurette, \s tar tied. '\ Ah! 

Z. What, you did not know he was betrothed to a cousin of the 
Comte D'Artois, a very rich and distinguished woman, one of the 
greatest matches in Europe ? See, here hangs her portrait, painted by 
his own hand. [Leads her to portrait and uncovers /'/.] 

Laurette, [aside.'] It was before this he stood and sighed so pro- 
foundly! 



l8 LA MARSEILLAISE. 

L. Do you doubt me ? Here in the corner is a true-lovers knot en- 
closing their initials, " V. St. C", Valerie St. Cyril; '-F. de M.", FeUx 
de Mercienne. 

Laurette. But still, that does not make us free. 

L. But do you not understand ? Smce he has discharged his obli- 
gation by finding you a home, he feels himself no longer bound to you. 
Does your womanly pride permit you to claim him when he wishes to 
be free ? 

Laurette, {indignantly .'\ I claim him! Did I not beg him to release 
me, standing there on the very spot where you stand now. Did I not 
refuse the papers and beg him to set me free ? Sir, you insult me! 

L. Ah! and he? "What was his answer? 

Laurette. {Proudly.'\ I thank you for reminding me. He answered, 
"Madame, it is a sentiment which is worthy of you, and of the name 
which I confide to your keeping." 

L. And then ? 

Laurette And then he kissed my hand and left me. 

L For Coblentz, where ihe Countess Valerie resides? 

Laurette. {Aside.'\ Coblentz! Yes, that is the name he mentioned. 

Z. Ah, Laurette, is it for this stranger, this proud aristocrat, whose 
blue blood would scorn to mingle with the vulgar fluid which flows in 
our veins, that you are to waste your blooming youth ? His desertion 
is a tacit release. I tell you he has been betrothed for years to a woman 
in his own rank, who loves him devotedly. 

Lattrette. \_Looking at portrait.'] Did he resign so much for me ? 
I was not worthy such a sacrifice. 

L. {Eagerly.] You pause ! you hesitate! Laureite ! If instead of 
this cold, disdamful stranger, I were to tell you of a man whose heart 
is yours; who adores in you all that is beautiful and divine; who for 
your sake is ready to resign a career full of promise, to seek with you 
some quiet nook, devoted to love and happiness. If I were to tell you of 
such a man, and bid him kneel here at your feet — as I do — Laurette, 
what would you answer ? 

\_Laurette moves slowly away, speaking to herself.] 

Laurette. "My child," said he, "Providence sometimes interprets 
our designs more widely than we comprehend. You have offered your 
life for me, and it is thus I am permitted to accept the sacrifice." And 
then he bent low and kissed my hand — this hand. {Advances a few 
steps, and stands absorbed in thought.] No one ever kissed my hand 
before. I feel the touch of his warm lips on it still. 

{Re .ards her hand a moment, then raises it to her lips.] 

L. She does not answer. She has not even heard me ! 

Laurette. {Turning round to him.] Monsieur, I thank you very 
heartily for pointing out my duty. I have prayed God every day to 
show it to me, and now you make it clear. Since Monsieur the Comte 
acce^i.s me for his wife, my place is plainly by his side, and no difficulty 



LA MARSEILLAISE. 1 9 

or danger should deter me. Monsieur, I bid you adieu. I am about 
to join my husband. \^Exit L. D.] 

L. \_furiously.'\ A thousand devils seize you, Jules Lafarge ! Fool, 
accursed fool ! you have taught her her own heart. 

[^ long, shrill ivhistlo is heard. Duchard mounts the steps of 
the terrace ] 

Duchard. Hi. Lafarge ! Citizen Lafarge ! Why the devil does he 
stand there staring. 

L. \^Iooki>7g over shoulder. '\ That blood-thirsty coward, Duchard, 
again ! What does it say, somewhere, about the seven devils entering 
in, and the second state of that man being worse than the first? The 
Convention rid us of the Bible, but it has not cured us of the bad habit 
of remembering it, I see. Child, child, I had my one moment of grace, 
and you have snatched it from me. ]_Duchard crosses terrace and 
touches hhn on shouhier ] So, you have traced me out, have you ? What 
do you want ? 

D. I want-to see why a good son of liberty sleeps at his post? There 
have been glorious doings at Nantes and Lyons. The National Lancet 
has cut out the plague-spots by thousands; even the neighboring villages 
are sending their offerings to glorious St. Guillotine. And still Plessy 
is unheard from! Do you want Danton to accuse us at the bar of the 
Convention ? Haven't you been sent down to ferret out the cursed 
traitors in their holes ? Do your duty, or! — 

[Shakes Jist in face ] 

L. One of your disagreeable traits. Citizen Duchard, is the inces- 
sant use of garlic. Another, is that dangerous strain upon the voice 
C'sWqA \\\Q biillyhig tonex \_with emphasis.'] I like neither. ^Duchard 
draivs back abashed.] You desire to know what I have been doing? 
Drinking tea with an old woman, chiefly. 

D. An old woman is it ? I suspected a petticoat somewhere about. 
And is it here you have spent all these weeks, while the nation has 
been crushing hydra-headed tyrany? 

L. Cutting it off, you mean. Yes, it is here. And you ? 

D. Searching high and low for that coniounded girl. You know 
who I mean. 

L. ^aside.] What my friend, are you developing that abnormal organ 
in egotists of your species, a heart ? {^Aloud.] You intend to take your 
daughter back then ? 

D. Hell and furies! Take her back; the wife of an emigre ? As if I 
didn't encounter enough suspicion now, to drive an honest man mad. 
No, I have done with the hussy for good and all. But I want to see her 
once. 

L. [aside ] W^hich is precisely what you shall not do. {A/oud.] 
In the interests of the Republic, 1 suppose? 

D. [violently.'] Hell and furies! Yes. Who's else do you suppose ? 
What the devil have I done that they are always accusing me of sus.- 
picious motives. 



20 LA MARSEILLAISE. 

L. \_asidg.'] The impetuosity of these honest men! 

D. She has stolen the nation's property and it is my duty as — as — a 
good patriot. 

L. {dryly.'] Precisely. 

Z>. To get it back. 

Z. In effect, you have bought the chateau and you want the 
title-deeds which you suppose the emigre has left in charge of his wife? 
No subterfuges, Duchard, I know you. 

D, And if you do, you know a man who is not to be baulked. I 
suspect you have found out the hussy's hiding-place. Men of your sort 
when they get their eye on a girl, keep it there. Well, give me the 
papers and take the girl. That's fair. 

L. A bargain. I havn't got the papers, but they are in that room 
there, and I'll show you a way to get them and strike a blow for Plessy 
at the same time. 

[ They withdraw a few stepsy turning their backs to the audi- 
ence and whisper tn precisely the same attitude as in scene lat. 
Laurette enters r. d. unobserved.] 

Laurette. Strangers here in my aunt's salon? Hold! The voices 
sounded familiar. [Advances a step.] Ah, the holy saints defend us! Is 
it a dream; am I mad? Those figures whispering together; my father's 
cottage; the plot the betrayal! [app.oaching nearer and falling on her 
knees.] Ah mother in Heaven protect your poor child now. It is my 
father and Lafarge, "the awful man from Paris."] 

(curtain falls.) 



SCENE THIRD.— ACT SECOND. 

Scene the same. Laurette alone in the gardetiy pacing impa- 
tiently back and forth. 

Laurette. Like a caged animal, panting for liberty, and mocked by 
the free country beyond! Let neither bolt nor bar restrain me! I can- 
not \ea.yehei, my generous, devoted ftiend. But, oh! to escape from 
this frightful man! His fierce eye terrifies me— there's a threat in 
every tone of his voice! Yet, at first (my cheeks burn at the thought !) 
after the momentary thrill of terror, repulsion — I know not what to 
call it— how charming I thought him! how witty, how accomplished ! 
Are there human snakes, then, and am I the poor, fascinated victim, 
lured to destruction! Oh, for the wings of the free bird yonder, to fly 
where my heart leads me! He would protect the poor girl, who dares 



LA MARSEILLAISE. 21 

to call him husba^id. My husband! There's strength and courage in 
the name 1 Oh, yes, I will be true to the trust he gave me — come what 
may. \^Noise without, clang of swords, etc. '\ Hush! What is that? 
The tramp of the patrol along the road — they come this way — they 
stop! Ah, merciful heaven! has it come so soon! 

[Loud knocking without. A voice says, **Open in the name of 
'Libert!/, Fraternity, Equality.'' Others respond, '■Vive la Re- 
publique.' Mme St. Kvrem.nde apjjears on the terrace, above. 
Laurette runs up the steps and embraces her silently. 

Mme. St. E. Courage, dear child ! 'Tis only a^visit from the police. 
Positively, their attentions grow flattering. I begin to think myself an 
important personage. There, our lodger has opened the door — he par- 
leys with them ! Did I not tell thee, child, he is our good friend ? 
And here they come! Go into the garden and keep out of sight. 

Laurette. Before I go, one kiss, dear madame, and your forgiveness ? 
'Tis I who have brought them here. 

Mfne. St. E. Ha! is it so? Not the first lamb who has lured a 
pack of wolves, then. There, go, dear child. 

yPiishes her down the steps. She stands in the garden^ partly 
concealed and listening. Duchard enters alone on the terrace 
above.] 

Duchard, [reading from a paper. '\ Widow Evremonde, calling her- 
self Dowager Countess of 3t. Evremonde in defiance of the edict of the 
Convention. 

M7?ie. St. E. The same, though I am sure I don't in the least mind 
what you call me. ^ 

Duchard^ [reading.'] Accused by a patriotic citizen of Plessy, of 
stealing the property of the nation, to- wit : The abstract, til le deeds, &c., 
of the chateau de Mercienne, confiscated to the nation by the edict of 
Brumaire as the property of a proscribed traitor. You are ordered by 
the Mayor and Revolutionary Committee to surrender said property. 

Mme. St. E. I should be delighted to obey the Mayor and the other 
gentlemen, but unfortunately no such papers are in my possession. 

Duchard, [reading.] In case of contumacy the house is to be search- 
ed. [Aloud.] Ho! there, citizens! [soldiers appear at wings. Con- 
tinues reading.] The citizeness to be arrested and searched. [Mme. 
St. E. shrinks back with an exclammation], and then conveyed to the 
prison of La Force at Paris. 

Mme. St. E. [calmly.] In effect, to the guillotine. I have expected 
your visit too long to be surprised, but not on such a plea as this. I 
am no thief. Your Mayor and your committee know it well, for I have 
lived a long life in this place and my character is known to you. 
Search the house if you will, every nook and cranny is open. There 
are no such papers here. But spare a woman that last degradation. 

Duchard, [to soldiers.] You can search the house first. [They 
disappear.] 



22 LA MARSEILLAISE. 

\Lafarge appears in the garden. Laurette runs to him in 
violent a'jitation.'\ 

Laurette, [to Lafarge."] Oh, for Christ's sake, help us. Do you 
know what has happened ? They are searching for papers that they will 
not find and then they are going to search her. Those brutal men! Oh 
you know it will kill her; that delicate, high-born lady. Help! help! — 

Lafarge. Do you recognize that man Laurette ? Then you know 
there is no help possible, save to find the papers. Her fate rests with 
you, not me. 

Laurette. Merciful Heaven, what shall I do. They are a sacred 
trust. They are not mine to give. 

Lafarge, \coolly.'\ So be it. Either here of shame; see how she 
trembles; as you say, she is delicate and high-born, unaccustomed to 
rough handling — or a few hours later on, under the guillotine. 

Laurette. Cruel monster, do you tempt me ? They are not mine to 
give. 

{Soldiers reappear up above.) 

Due hard, [to soldiers.'] You find no papers ? 

jst soldier. None, citizen. 

TJiichard. You have searched everywhere ? [ii^ide."] Hell and 
furies! are they to escape me a second time, [aloud.] Then seize this 
old traitress, this thief and pilferer, and search her as the Mayor com- 
mands. 

{Mme. S!t. E. clutches the rail to support herse[f. Soldiers 
adoaiice reluctantly.) 

1st soldier. A moment, Citizen Duchard, this old book-case inside 
here, we have over-looked thai. 

{Soldiers' diaajjpear. ) 

Laurette [to Lafarge.] Can you stand by and see her killed? A 
word from you will prevent this dreadful outrage. 

Tj. Say from you, rather. Laurette, give me one word of hope — 
cancel that imaginary bond— for your sake she shall be free. Child, 
why do you hesitate ? T love you as no man ever loved woman before. 
Can you resist devotion that abandons everything for your sweet sake ? 

[Endeavors to embrace her. She wards him off.] 

Laurette. Infamous man ! Do you try to buy my fidelity ? Do you 
think I do not know you ? In our village you were Lafarge, and here 
you are Desnoyers. Everywhere you are a police spy, an informer, a 
wretch. Away ! Not to buy my mother's life would I listen to you. 



LA MARSEILLAISE. 



23 



Lafarge. It is to be war between us, then. Do you think you can 
escape me ? Body and soul, you are mine. Your father removes the 
old woman, the only stumbling block in the way. In consideration of 
the papers you hide in your bosom, he gives you to me. Your hus- 
band has deserted you, and thus I claim my own. 

{Clasps her in his his arms. She siruggles. Meanwhile the 
soldiers have appeared above.) 

Buchard. No papers ? Then advance and seize her in the name of 
Liberty, Equality, Fraternity. 

{They surround Mme. Si. E.) 

Mine. St. E. As God is my witness, I have them not. Arrest me ! 
send me to the guillotine ! I gladly follow where His saints have led; 
but lor the sake of these gray hairs {snatches off cap] — by the memory 
of your mothers — spare me that cruel indignity. 

{They advance to seize her. Laurette rushes up steps and in- 
terferes.] 

Laurette. Never ! You shall not lay a hand upon her. Father, it 
is I, Laurette, who tell you so. Here are the papers you seek; but 
they belong to me, Countess de Mercienne, and you shall not have them. 

buchard, \aside.] Hell and furies, the wife of an emigre calls me 
father ! lam lost ! {Aloud.] Who is this woman who withholds the 
property of the nation ? I know her not ! Arrest her ! 

Lafarge. For shame, Duchard! It is your daughter, 

Buchard. I have no daughter ! Or if 1 had, and the good of the 
Republic needed it, I should disown her as I do now. Soldiers, arrest 
these traitors to the nation, and carry them to La Force. 

\_Laurelie and Mme. St. E. embrace. Soldiers surround them. 
Curtain falls .] 



24 LA MARSEILLAISE. 



ACT THIRD.— SCENE FIRST. 

[The pris^on of La Force. A lady and gentleman on 
right hand playing cliess. A group of three gentleman 
on left hand playing cards. A long, narrow table at 
rear with ladies seated beside it, sewing, embroidering, 
writing, &c. The Marquis de Creve-Coeur on one end of the 
tabUf violin in hand. Two Abbes pacing back and forth 
readiiig their breviaries. Tivo nuns in corner praying. 
Countess Valerie St. Cyril and a gentleman dancing the 
minuet as the curtain rises. The Duchesse de Launay and 
M. de Malesherbes conversing in front of stage. The dancing 
continues a moment, then ceases and the dancers converse with 
their neighbors in animated pantomime. '^ 

M. Malesherbes, \to Duchesse.'\ It is marvelous to watch the spirit 
which supports our dear Valerie in this terrible place. I study the 
other ladies. Piety, despair, resignation gives the key to their deport- 
ment. With her, it seems an imperial courage. 

The Duchesse. Or rather the gaiety of a light-hearted child, Mon- 
sieur de Malesherbes. Observe her; how merrily she turns from 
one to another. Did you hear the pretty songs she sang for us yester- 
day ? All about love and hoping. And see now, she has niade even the 
Abbe Latil look up from his breviary. Come hither, dear child. How 
merry you are this morning. 

Valerie, \to Duchesse.'] Not more than usual, dear Duchesse de 
Lauuay. We are obliged to re-cast our litUe charade for this evening, 
so many vacancies occurred yesterday— they took 29 you know — and I 
am trying to coax Abbe Latil to take the lover's part, he reads so beau- 
tifully. But he declines and I accuse him of losing courage at last. 
Besides it is treason against the prison rules. We are pledged not to 
refuse anything that may promote the pleasure of anybody else. 

The Duchesse. A beautiful rule and one which you, at least, observe, 
dear Valerie. They have well named you "The Sunbeam." These 
dreary vaults would be dark, indeed, without you. 

Valerie, {shrugging shoulder s.'\ Oh, as to that, I must amuse my- 
self or I would die of terror. 

M. Malesherbes \io Valerie.'\ Are you then so afraid of death M'lle. 
Valerie ? 

Valerie. Hush, M. Malesherbes, you also break the rules of the 
community. That is a subject not to be mentioned here. 

M. Malesherbes. Permit me to transgress, just once, and answer 
me. You seem so brave and cheerful; are you then, like the rest of 
us, afraid to die ? 

Valerie, {gravely.'] Monsieur, I am eighteen; this world is beauti- 
ful for all the crimes and horrors that disfigure it now. Over yonder. 



LA MARSEILLAISE. 25 

across the borders of our poor, distracted France, everything awaits me; 
security, wealth, friendship — perhaps even something more — and you 
ask me if I am afraid ? I tell you if I permitted myself to recollect 
what a day, an hour may bring forth, I should faint at your feet there 
in abject, cowardly terror, [furns a^uay.'] Where has my partner dis- 
appeared to. Please, dear Marquis, another figure of the minuet. 

\_The Marquis plays again. Dancers resume their places and 
perform a figure of the minuet. '\ 

Malesherbes, \to Buchesse during the dancing.'] This is truly the 
most wonderful side of our many-sided human nature! Who would 
suppose, in looking over thor>e animated groups that every member is 
in daily, nay, {glancing at the c'ock] momently peril of death — for see, 
the hands already approach the hour of noon when the jailors make 
their deadly round. 

77^1? Buchesse. Yoa speak dispassionately. Are you yourself so 
secure that you can afford to marvel at the calmness of others? 

Malesherbes. On the contrary, dear friend, I have been warned to 
prepare. My defense of our martyred king is pronounced high treason, 
and my name is to head the list of to-day. I speak, therefore, with 
the calmness of one who is already beyond suspense. 

The Buchesse. And I listen to you as a statue might! My friend, 
I have no longer any tears to shed for you or for myself. My heart is 
wrung dry in this long agony. I too await the hour of noon. Hark! A 
noise without. 

\A rattling at the door; the dancing ceases suddenly, all look 
toward door, lohich opens and Lauretle appears, clinging to 
Mme. St. Evremonde, svrrounded hy National Guard. Jailor 
thrusts them in. All the prisoners rise ] 

yailor. Here pigs of aristocrats, the glorious Republic sends two 
more to join the drove. I advise some of you to make the most of their 
society, for you wont have it long. At noon I return, and I shan't go 
away alone, I promise you. 

{Laughs and shnls the door. The prisoners croiod around the 
new-comers, offering them seats, water, &c. Buchesse de Launay 
advances to Mme. St. Evremonde. ] 

The Buchesse. Ladies, as the oldest lady present, I regretfully wel- 
come you to the prison of La Force, and in the name of your compan- 
ions in misfortune, offer you such hospitalities as are in our power to 
extend. 

Mme. St. E. {looking earnestly at Buchesse i.] Is it the dim light? 
Do I dream ? Surely I recognize you, Louise de Launay, my child- 
hood's friend? 



,26 LA MARSEILLAI&E. 

The Duchesse. Alas ! the same, and you are Therese. [ They embrace. 
The Duchesse presents her to the rest.} Ladies and gentlemen, I present 
to you Mme. St. Evremonde, the Chateleine of Plessy. 

{.They lead her away, talking eagerly among themselves. Lau- 
rette stands alone; Countess Valerie approaches her.} 

Valerie, [gently] Will you entrust yourself to me, Mdlle, ? [Laurette 
shows surprise.] Vou look bewildered. It is the effect of the place, 
doubtless; but you will soon recover. We are all friends here, for we 
all suffer in the same cause. [Seats her, removes shawl, smooths hair, 
etc.] My name is Valerie. We dispense with ceremony here —will 
you tell me yours ? 

Laurette. [Wearily, aside.] ISfy head swims so I cannot 
understand. She says she is Valerie and she has eyes like the 
picture's. But the real Valerie — his Valerie — is safe in Coblentz. 
[Looks at Ji£r earnestly.] What brings you here ? Let me feel you ! 
Are you flesh and blood? Surely you are the picture come to life ? 

Valerie, [aside.] She raves, poor child. Terror has turned her 
brain. 

Laurette. I cannot mistake those eyes. You are Valerie St. Cyril. 

Valerie. You know me then! And you —who are you? 

L'lurette, [<tside.] What can I answer her? How can I claim that 
name to her from whom I have stolen it ? Yet I dare not own myself 
the daughter of Duchard before all these aristocrats. Their scorn 
would break my heart. [Aloud] I have no rank or title, Mdlle. I am 
a plain village girl, and tney call me Laurette. 

Valerie. Yet you kjiow me! We have met somewhere. 

Laurette. I have seen your portrait at Plessy, 

Valerie. Ah! to be sure! Mme. St. Evremonde is his aunt. 

Laurette, [aside.] "/r'/jaunt." There is then, but one for her also. 

Valerie. You lived with Mme. St. Evremonde. You must have 
known M. le Comte de Mercienne. 

Laurette. I have seen him. 

Valerie. Did he reach Coblentz in safety ? He was to have joined 
us there, but we were arrested en route, my friends and I, and brought 
to this place. Was he more fortunate ? 

Laurette. I do not know, we have heard nothing. 

Valerie. Well, there or here it is all the same. It is ended now; 
or rather it is better that it was never begun. Do I speak in enigmas, 
petite ? I was thinking aloud, that's all. [She moves away.] 

L'lurette. She little dreams I have the clue. So it was never be- 
gun, she says, and that dreadful man lied to me as I suspected. Did 
he mean to arouse my jealousy? Alas, what claim have I upon M, le 
Comte, that I could dare to be jealous ? And she thinks she loves 
*him. But he never sacrificed everything to save her good name. She 
admires him for his looks, his manners, his position, a thousand things. 
How should I know what fine ladies admire their lovers for ? But it 
was for me he abandoned all things and it is we, women of the people, 
who know how to love. Desolate as I am and worse than orphaned^ 
he life is not wholly blank that has taught me that lesson. 



LA MARSEILLAISE. 27 

A Prisoner. M'lle, Mme. St. Evremonde is asking for you. 
\_Laurette follows prisoner to 'Mme. St. E., who is lying on a 
bench exhausted.] 

Mme. St. E. Is it you, dear child ? Give me your hand and do not 
leave me again I beseech you. All my courage is gone. They appall 
me, these faces with their haggard looks and mirthless smiles. I do 
not know which are the more terrible, those who laugh or those who 
weep, and see, they dance — actually dance! Is it not an awful 
mockery ? 

L'uirette. Surely it is wiser, dear aunt, than to give themselves up 
to terror and despair. To me it seems the height of Christian forti- 
tude and philosophy. Yonder, the gayest of all, is the Countess Valerie 
St. Cyril. Do you recognize her ? 

Mme. S(. E. Valerie St. Cyril, my nephew's — but no, I forget. 

Laurelle. Dear aunt, when you bade me call you that sweet name, 
you promised me that no one should ever know by what imaginary 
title I held it. Here and now, renew that promise. These are the 
Count de Mercienne's friends; yonder is the lady he would have mar- 
ried. To her; to them; to all the world, I am only Laurette, the vil- 
lage maid of Plessy, promise me that! 

Mme. SK E. Still so proud and sensitive, child? Well, I promise; 
though you have crept into my heart as closely as though you indeed, 
bore the name you refuse. 

[Ldurette embraces her silently, and they sit hand in hand. 
M. Malesherbes advances to center of stage.] 

M. Malesherbes. Friends, the hour of noon is close at hand. Like 
those who have gone before, let us bid each other adieu, in a last fare- 
well, for we know not, when the hour has struck, who shall be taken and 
who left. 

[The prisoners rise silently; the ladies embrace each other; 
gentlemen ditto. The genllemen ki^s ladies' hands. Meanwhile 
the clock slowly strikes 12. ^.9 the clock ceases, a burnt of the 
Mdrsellaise is heard, door opens. Jailor enters with National 
Guard, including Duchard and Lafarge.] 

Jailor. Here, you, traitors and aristocrats. The Republic invites 
some of you to take a short drive, this afternoon. 

Voice in (he crowd. And then to admire the view out of the little 
window . 

[Croiod laughs and Jeers.] 

Jailor, [readini^.] Citizen Malesherbes, lawyer, convicted of defend- 
ing the condemned traitor, Louis Capet, against the just wrath of the 
nation. (Malesherbes kisses Dachesse de Lanwiy's Juvul, bows low to 
the prisoners, and passes ihrou<jh the ce^iter door.) Pierre Latil, call- 
ing himself Abbe, and practicing priestcraft in defiance of the national 
edicts. 



28 LA MARSEILLAISE. 

{Lata closes his breviary and moves acroffs the hall; one of 
the nuns throws herself on her knees be/ore him, as if asking a 
blessing.) 

Abbe Lata {to nun). Nay, my daughter, that were to doom you to 
death unnecessarily. 

{Passes out.) 

Jailor^ {continues reading.) Philippe de Penthievres, calling himself 
Due, and maintaining correspondence with the enemy. 

(Due de P. rises from the table and upsets the men.) 

Due de P, (to opponent.) I yield you the game, Madame. That's 
a checkmate no human skill can prevent. 

{Passes out.) 

Jailor, {continues reading.) Louis de Creve Coeur, calling himself 
Marquis, accused of treason. (J/, de Creve Coeur kisses his violin, 
hows tow and exit.) The Widow de Launay, calling herself Duchesse, 
mother of an emigre now bearing arms against the nation. 

Duchesse. At last, my husband! After our brief parting, a long 
reunion. {Exit.) 

Jailor, [continues reading.} Nicolette Fabrot, milliner, accused of 
plots. 

(Nicolette embraces Valerie ) 

Nicolette, (to Valerie.) It ia time for the last kiss you promised me 
M'lle. la Comtesse. And you'll take care of my bird and my rose- 
tree ? 

Valerie. Faithfully, dear child. 

{Exit Nicolette.) 

Jailor, (continues reading.) Laurette, calling herself niece of the 
widow Evremonde, accused of withholding the property of the nation. 

[Mme. St. E. falls back fainting in Valerie's arms. Laurette 
advances to center of stage. Lafarge pushes through the crowd. ) 

Lafarge. Hold! Citizen Jailor. There's some mistake here; this 
prisoner simply accompanies her aunt and is accused of no crime. 

Jailor. Your pardon, citizen, this list enumerates eight. The girl 
Laurette is included, but is to be placed in secret until the papers are 
secured. 

Lafarge. By whom accused ? 



LA MARSEILLAISE. 29 

Jailor. By a good citizen of Plessy — Duchard. Here he stands in 
person. 

Lafarge, (aside to Duchard.) Wretch, do you think your cowardly 
fears shall thwart me a second time ? I tell you, your daughter shall 
be saved in spite of you. (aloud.) Citizen Jailor, the edict of last 
month proscribes to the nation all emigres and relatives of emigres. 
Is it not so ? 

Jailor. It does. 

Lafarge. It also commands all patriots to denounce them, especial- 
ly such as under the guise of patriotism attempt to conceal their 
traitorous relationships. Does it not ? 

(Duchard tries to slip away. Lafarge points him out and 
says, '^ Guard that man.'") 
Jailor. It does. 

Ijafarge. I, therefore, Jules Lafarge, variously known as Desnoyers, 
Chaumette, etc., an agent of police and a member of the Committee of 
Public Safety denounce to the Nation, the man Val. Duchard here pre- 
sent, as having been for twenty years intendant of the family of de 
Mercienne, proscribed traitors, and who is now father-in-law to the 
ci-devant Count Felix de Mercienne, a traitor in arms against the 
Nation, and I formally demand his arrest. 

Jailor. This is a serious charge. Citizen Duchard. What have you 
to say in defense ? 

Duchard. (trembling.) It is false, I deny — 

Lafarge. Hold, it is easily proved. Laurette Duchard, you admjt 
yourself to be the wife of Felix de Mercienne, 

Laurette. By what authority do you ask ? I admit nothing. 

Lnfarge. Nevertheless, it is true. I, Jules Lafarge, was a witness 
to the marriage. It is true, also, that you are the daughter of this man, 
Val. Duchard, Notary of Plessy, 

Laurette, (aside.) God help me in this bitter hour. I have never 
lied in my life, but if I own him now I sign my father's death warrant. 
(to Lafarge) Man, I know not your'purpose, but that it is evil, I know, 
for you are false to the core. You ask if this man is my father ? 

Lafarge. Stand forth, Val Duchard. 

Jyiureite, (aside.) May God forgive me. (Aloud) He is not, 

JiAor. The charge fails! No proof! 

Lafarge. A moment! This girl is to be placed in secret — the order 
reads ? 

Jailor. It does, 

Lafarge. Until when ? 

Jailor. To-morrow noon. Remove the prisoners. Forward, march! 

{The soldiers and prisoners disappear.) 

Lafarge (aside.) Twenty- four hours in which to save her! Jules 
Lafarge, your wits have never failed you when you had devil's work 
to do. Rally them now for the one good action of your life, (Seizes 
Dachaid, roughly.) Cowardly wretch, has conscience stung you at 
last? Follow me, and we'll save your daughter. 



30 LA MARSEILLAISE. 

Due hard, {turning Unvards the prisoner s.'\ Good citizens, I have no 
daughter. It's all a lie. I am an honest patriot whom they are 
frightening to death. Look at my hands. Don't you see the blood on 
them ? It is aristocrat blood I tell you; see, I wash them in it. Save 
me, save me! 

Lafarge, {dragging him away.'\ Sucre Viable, he's gone mad with 
terror! {Drags him to the open door siriiggling.'\ 

Diichard, {shrieking.'] The guillotine! they are dragging me to the 
guillotine. I have no daughter, I tell you. Save me! 

{Exit, shrieking. Soldiers loithout sing Marseillaise. Sound 
of tumbrils and a great clamor of owe la Repuhllque. ''To the 
guillotine with the7ti."1 

Abbe. Brethien, they sing the hymn of death. Let us recommend 
to the mercy of God, the souls of the martyrs who are about to ascend 
to Him. 

{Prisoners fall on their knees. Abbe stands in the midst and 
raises crucifi.v aloft. Tableau. Curtain falls.] 



ACT THIRD.— SCENE SECOND. 

[Corridor and cell of the prison. Cell door closed. Countess 
Valerie and Lafarge in Corridor.] 

Valerie. What you ask is impossible, monsieur. 

Lafarge. Nothing is impossible to the Countess Valerie's tender 
heart. 

Valer'e. But what guaranty have I the paper you request will be 
properly used ? 

Lafarge. Mdlle la Comtesse, a man who is about to face death for the 
woman he loves, needs no guaranty. 

luzlerie. But who is this woman ? 

Lafarge. That I cannot tell you. {Aside.] Trust] a woman's ten- 
der heart but beware her jealousy. {Aloud.] Do you not see Mdlle. your 
only safety lies in knowing nothing ? I ask you to give me a slip of 
paper containing simply the words, " I am in danger. Rescue me," 
signed by your initials. Of its destination, or its results, you know 
nothing. To-morrow Robespierre proclaims an amnesty to all prison- 
ers not under sentence of death, in honor of his Fete to the Supreme 
Being. 

Valerie. Blasphemous wretch, does he thus dare invoke the light- 
ning on his head! 



rLA MARSEILLAISE. 3 1 

Lafarge. Blasphemous or not, it will set you and your companions 
at liberty. The less you know of anything occurring within these four 
walls meanwhile, the better your chance of enjoying it undisturbed. 

Valerie. And you will not tell me the name of the woman for 
whom you dare so much ? She must be a nonpareil of loveliness. 

Lafarge. Nay, Mdlle., by the side of the Comtesse Valerie St. 
Cyril she would be only a simple village maid. But you have seen 
men and women pass from these walls by scores to die for their reli- 
gion. Well— she is mine. 

Valerie. Is it so, monsieur ? A priest would speak to you of a bet- 
ter one, but a woman cannot be wholly insensible to such a tribute to 
her sex. Here is the paper you ask. I trust to your generosity not 
to misuse it. \_Gives paper. '\ 

Lafarge. It is an action worthy of you Mdlle. I can say no more. 
\_Exil hastily, L. D j 

Valerie. And now for this strange interview. What can this girl 
whom they call the wife of Felix de Mercienne have to say to me ? 
Does she imagine me her rival ? I am told the common women taunt 
their rivals sometimes. Can she suspect— but no! I never loved him. 
His defection wounds my pride, but what has a woman of our order to 
do with the plebian organ they call a heart ? There was a time — well, 
well it is over now. He has deserted the Countess of St. Cyril for a 
village girl. That cuts! Yet there's something simple and sweet about 
her and Madame St. Evremonde bewails her dear Laurette till one's 
ears ache with the repetition. I'll go, if only to study the charms 
which have stolen away the heart I half dreamed mine. Heigho, so we 
shall be released to-morrow. But somehow, the zest of liberty seems 
gone. 

\_Exit K. D. Scene changes rapidly to cell.'] 
[Interior 0/ cell. Laurette and Valerie discovered.] 

Laurette, Mdlle., the Countess, I knew your kind heart would 
bring you. 

Valerie. Say rather my curiosity to know what the Countess de 
Mercienne may desire to say to me. 

Laurette. Ah do not speak in that cutting tone ! I have no time 
for explanations, my jailor has risked his head to secure me these pre- 
cious minutes, for old acquaintance sake. But Madame St. Kvre- 
monde knows. Tell her Laurette releases her from promise and bids 
her tell you all. 

Valerie. You are kind, madame, but the history of a stranger is 
scarcely of the absorbing interest you imagine. 

Laurette. Only wait, before you judge me! Doubtless I seem to 
you an interloper, an adventuress, who has enticed away your lover — 

Valerie, [haughtily. ] Madame is pleased to be imaginative. When 
she has resided longer in the sphere to which her somewhat sudden, 
and, pardon me, extraordinary marriage has elevated her, she will 
unlearn the manners and language of her native village. The daugh- 
ters of the French noblesse have husbands, but never lovers! 



3.2 tA MARSEILLATSE. 

Laurette. Alas, mdlle. the countess, does this look as if my resi- 
dence in the sphere you speak of were likely to be long ? Forgive me 
if I use the homely phrases my mother taught me. I know no other. 
This gentleman who is not your lover, but who, report said, was one 
day to be your husband, gave me by accident his name and title. I 
have never claimed it, for we, simple daughters of the people demand 
from our husbands something more than a name or a title, — we ask, 
being so plain and rude you know, for their hearts, as well! Since that 
was not mine, but yours, mademoiselle, nothing was mine, only the fidel- 
ty he pledged me at parting. I return that to him through you, Mdlle. 
the Countess. You will tell him that the little girl >vhose life and 
honor he saved was true to the trust he confided in her; that her dying 
prayer was for him, who was so generous, and if in Heaven it is per- 
mitted us to continue the thoughts of earth, she will love him there for- 
evermore ! 

Jailor, \at door.'\ Are you almost through within there ? The five 
minutes are up. 

Valeria. Just a moment, good citizen! Child, child, I have 
wronged you; forgive my jealous pride. Is there no hope, no escape ? 
Robespierre has proclaimed an amnesty to morrow in honor of his in- 
famous Fete. 

Laurette. To-morrow, I shall be already free! 

Valerie. But only twelve hours delay! Have you no influential 
friend to procure you that ? 

Laitrette. How should a poor village girl have influential friends? 
My only one is within these walls. No, Mdlle. there is no escape. I 
pray you do not disturb me with empty hopes. 

Jailor, {enter ing.l The five minutes are up I tell you! The guard 
is coming. {Seizes Valerie by the arm.'] 

Laurette. Adieu then, and remember! 

Valerie. As long as memory shall endure! 

{Emerges into the corridor, closing door after Iv^y, and is 
led aicay loeeping, by the Jailor, k. d. Lafarge and Count 
de Mercienne enter l. d., hurriedly. 



Lajarge. Waste no time in asking questions Count de Mercienne! 
Your arrival in Paris is known, and the Countess Valerie St. Cyril who 
is confined within there, summons you to her rescue. 

Be Mercienne. I am here to obey her, citizen Lafarge. 

Lafarge. And I to show you how. The amnesty which is to be ex- 
tended to all prisoners to-morrow does not include the condemned of 
to-day. Unless she is rescued before noon, she or some one else must 
complete the number. 

De Mercienne. Your plan is for me to occupy the Countess Valerie's 
place in the cell, while you spirit her away? So be it. {xside.\ As 
well one time as another. The poor little girl I married will not break 
her heart to find herself my widow. Though doubtless, she is already 
dead. 



LA MARSEILLAISE. 33 

Lafarge. Life, it would appear, is not worth much to you either. 
On the contrary, my design is to occupy the cell myself, while you 
spirit her away. Listen! Here is a passport permitting Jules Lafarge 
and his wife to take leave of certain friends of theirs, now lying under 
the displeasure of the Republic, in the Prison of La Force. Mme. 
Lafarge being a woman of weak nerves, faints on leaving these friends, 
and has to be carried into the fresh air, in her husband's arms. A 
fiacre at the door receives them — she is very ill — a doctor is required — 
they drive rapidly av/ay. When the twelve are summoned, the tally is 
complete^ but by whom, no one observes, since the accuser of the 
twelfth — the man Duchard — went raving crazy from a fright he received 
yesterday, jumped into the Seine, and is consequently unable to identify 
his victim to-day. Should, however, the mistake be discovered, the fugi- 
tive and her husband are already beyond pursuit, and her substitute 
has only one head to lose. Hush! Not a word! Here is the key 
which admits me to her cell. Stand without while I enter, and the 
moment I place her in your arm, be off! 

Be Mercienne. Before you go, your hand, brave hero! If we meet 
no more — 

Lafarge. If we meet no more, when next you see your wife, De 
Mercienne, tell her (for we are old acquaintances) you also knew 
Lafarge, and called him— hero. 

[Enters cell, leaving door wide open. Laurette discovered on 
her knees within. Lafarge takes her in his arms, kisses her on 
forehead, then lays a handkerchief over her face. She str'uggles 
a moment, then gradually faints away. Lafarge carries her to 
Mil door.] 

Lafarge. Each for his own ! The priest for his religion — the noble 
for his king — the man of plots and intrigues for the woman he loves ! 

[Lays her in De M's arms. Tableau. Curtain falls.] 



ACT THIRD.— SCENE THIRD. 

A levee at the residence of the Count D'Artois in Cohlentz. 
Ladies a^id gentlemen in Court costume, promenading about. 
Soft music in the distance, as the curtain rises. Count 
D'Artois, leaning on the arm of Be Mercienne, advances gaily 
down the stage, bowing right and left, and occasionally kiss- 
ing his finger-tips to a lady. {The Count retains his plumed 
cap.) All bow and courtesy obsequiously in return.] 

D'Artois. Still that clouded look of care, my dear De Mercienne! 
Faith, for a prospective bridegroom, your aspect is the reverse of flat- 
tering. Were I the Countess Valerie, I should demand an explanation; 
in fact, as her cousin, I think it becomes my duty to do so. 



34^ LAr-MA^iSEIL-LAISE. : 

De Mercienne. Your Royal Highness is at liberty to exact any 
explanation it is in my power to give. 

D'Artois. What an exasperating dog it is ! A year ago, vrnen the 
union of the houses of St. Cyril and De Mercienne was proposed, you 
exhibited a very becoming demeanor. In fact, if my memory serves, 
you were considered somewhat epris with the fair Valerie's dark eyes, 
and even went the length of requesting permission to paint her portrait, 
duly chaperoned, of course, and at conversational arms length. As a 
work of art, the portrait, I remember, was atrocious; but for a bit of 
gallantry, I considered it clever — very clever, indeed! Was there not 
something about initials and true lovers' knots in the corner — eh, you 
sly dog ? 

De Mercienne. Your Royal Highness' memory is correct, as usual. 
The portrait and the true lovers' knots still hang in my aunt's salon, at 
Plessy. I>ut — \sighs.'\ 

D'' Artois. "But" \imitating sigh'\ zSxax twice braving the fiends of 
the Revolution; after rescuing her from the guillotine, as you supposed 
— no fault of yours that you were tricked into carrying off the wrong 
woman, while Valerie arrived per dihgence a few days later; after a 
series of vicissitudes, in short, fit to rig out a three-volume novel, you 
return to find your inamorata still unwed — her family acquiescent — the 
lady herself not unapproachable — the documents ready to sign and seal 
— and all you have to say is — "But !" 

De Mercienne. Your Royal Highness omits one incident of the 
year 

D'' Artois. Your marriage a la Marseillaise ? By no means. That 
romantic bit of folly being over and done with, however, 

De Mercienne. Then you think the poor child really dead ? 

D' Artois. Undoubtedly. Did not the Countess Valerie bring you 
her parting message ? Had the guillotine relinquished its prey at the 
last moment, so remarkable an occurrence would have reached our 
cars, be sure. 

De Mercienne. Yes, undoubtedly, your Royal Highness is right. 
She is dead, and I am free, as you say, \Sighs.'\ 

D'' Artois. Another sigh! De Mercienne you are unendurable this 
evening. Go, pour your griefs into your aunt's bosom while I console 
the deserted Valerie. 

\^D' Artois retires to rear of stage and talks in animated pan- 
tomime loith the Countess Valerie. Mme. St. Evreinonde and 
De Mercienne promenade the stage.] 

Mme. St. Evrenionde. Is this alliance then so distasteful to you dear 
boy ? 

De Mercienne. Alas, dear aunt, Valerie is still beautiful, still charm- 
ing, but — it was a year ago I thought so. Do you remember my words 
at Plessy, "I speak not of love, that sacred emotion is yet to come.'^ 
Well 

Mtne. St. Evremonde. \\. has cov(\q\ [De M. doivs in acquiescence.^ 
But when, how, for whom ? 



LA MARSEILLAISE. 35 

De Mercienne. It is a brief story, and I write myself fool when I 
tell it, but you are all the mother I have dear aunt, and you shall know. 
You have heard the history of my adventure in Paris ? How Lafarge 
procured a paper from Valerie summoning me to her rescue, and then, 
in some inexplicable spirit of self-devotion, substituting himself for the 
occupant of the condemned cell, placed an insensible woman in my 
arms, and bade me carry her off? 

Mme. St. EvTemoride. Yes, I know all that. Well ? 

De Mercienne. In the hurry and excitement of the moment I had 
no time to suspect an imposture. Her features were hidden, her figure 
slight; of course I supposed it Valerie. When we passed the barrier 
and the danger was fairly over, I called her name, thinking to reassure 
her; no response. I implored her to answer me; a sigh. Alarmed for 
the effect of the drug her heroic deliverer had used, I ventured to Hft 
her veil. A stranger lay in my arms! 

Mme. St. Evremonde. And it is this stranger ? 

De Mercienne. It is this stranger, dear aunt! ]^A pimsi.'\ 

Mme. St. Evremonde. Her name; her condition ? 

De Mercienne. I know neither, for she utterly refused them both. 
That she is gentle-born, I am sure, though she speaks with a Provincial 
accent. But so wisely, so sweetly, with shy, downcast glances out of 
her soft, brown eyes. Do you know, dear aunt, it is a silly fancy, but 
she recalled, so nehow, the poor child I married that night, — as she 
would look I mean, grown into a woman. Was she pretty, that child ? 
I only remember she had wistful eyes, and a braid of yellow hair down 
her back. 

Mme. St. Evremonde \drily.'\ Oh, yes ! Laurette was considered 
pretty. But this sti anger who reminds you of her, she is slight you 
say? Blonde, with brown eyes ? An. unusual combination. I should 
like to see her. 

De Mercienne. She is in Coblentz, where else could I bring her as 
she had no friends and her father was lately dead, she told me ? In 
fact, under this very roof, in charge of the mistress of the maids. 

Alme. St. Evremoftde. Your description excites my interest. I'll 
seek an interview with this fascinating unknown. Remain you here. 
[Hurrying off?'] My limbs tremble beneath me; is it Laurette re- 
turned to life! 

\Exit B. D. Count D^Ariois advances down the centre lead- 
iny Valerie by the hand. ^ 

D'Ariois. My sweetest cousin you are delicious to night. Positive- 
ly your lips grow redder, and your eyes brighter, and your smile saucier 
every hour you hve. 

Valerie. So much for being heart-whole your Royal Highness. 

D'Artois. That's bad news for somebody, my fair cousin. Come 
here, De Mercienne, this lady is talking treason. [De M. Joins them.'] 
The Countess Valerie says she is heart-whole. 

Valerie. And why not, your Royal Highness ? 

D'Artois. Why not? De Mercienne, she asks why not? [Aside^ 
punching him in the ribs.] Good heavens man, speak up. You do 
not expect me to do your courting for you ? 



$6 LA MARSEILLAISE. 

I?e Mercienne. As mademoiselle says, it is an enviable condition. 

D' Artois,\rnbbing his hands. '\ That's it! To be heart-whole is to 
be envied. You are not heart-whole, therefore the Countess must take 
pity on you. Very neatly put. \_Asid^.^ Speak up again man! \^An 
embarrassed paiise.'\ You see he is too overcome to express himself, 
Valerie. I find myself de trop. Adieu, mon cher, pray do not fail to ex- 
plain to her why not. 

[Walks off laughing. They stand embarrassed.^ 

Valerie. Is it not time to put an end to this farce, Monsieur le 
Comte? 

De Mercienne. This farce, Mdlle la Comtesse ? 

Valerie. This farce, which they would like to convert into a tragedy. 
A year ago our marriage might have been — to-day it is impossible. In 
that gloomy prison, yonder — with that pale heroic girl to teach me — 
think you I learned nothing ? Where my hand goes, my heart must 
follow, also, Monsieur ! I pray you to release the one, since you have 
not cared to win the other. 

De Mercienne. Mademoiselle, if I have been so unfortunate, it is 
because Destiny has been too strong for me. 

[Mme. St. E. and Laurette enter unobserved. R. H,] 

Valerit. You love then another ? 

De Mercienne. If to have constantly before one's mind the vision of 
a flu.^hing cheek and shyly, down-cast eyes — to hear but one sweet 
voice, low-toned and tremulous — if to dream by night and long by day, 
be loving, then mademoiselle is right — I love another! 

Valerie. But she is dead ? 

De Mercienne. Nay, the poor young girl who bore my name is dead, 
but she I love — 

Mrne. St. Evremonde, Is here! \^presenting Laurette.'\ My boy, I 
return the charge you confided to me. 

De Mercienne. The companion of my journey! What does this 
mean — who is this ? There are things one dares not believe ! 

Laurette. Believe them, nevertheless, Monsieur. The woman 
wiiom you saved from disgrace and death, whom you rescued from the 
guillotine, returns to claim the fidelity you pledged her, and tell you she 
has been true to her trust. 

De Mercienne. My wife! {^Embraces her.} And you have learned 
to love me, little one ? 

Laurette. Am I not here in your arms ? 

De Mercienne. Yet why so cruel during the long weeks we jour- 
neyed together, that might have been so happy ? A dozen times I 
sought to know your name. 

Laurette. But the first word I heard from your lips, when I recov- 
ered consciousness, was "Valerie!" How could I bring myself to tell 
you that instead of the woman you loved, you had only rescued a 
life-long impediment to your happiness. 



LA MARSEILLAISE. 37 

De Mercientie. But you know all now ? 

Laurette. Yes, the dear aunt has explained all. Only tell me one 
thing — Lafarge ? 

De Mercienne. There were twelve condemned to the guillotine that 
day my child, and twelve suffered. Ask no more! 

Laurette. Who am I to have won such love as that! 

Valerie. Say rather, what is death since love can conquer it! 

UArtois, {advancing into the centre of the group.'] Away with such 
grave topics on a night like this ! Strike up the Marseillaise. We'll 
change the hymn of death into a marriage pean, prophetic of the day 
when Liberty and Peace clasp hands, and Fi-ance shall bless her re- 
united children! 

I Courtiers gather round. Tableau. Curtain falls, to a chorus 
of the Marseillaise. ] 



THE END. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

II! mil mil mil mil I 




